Operation: Clean Sweep
by AlaskanFan
Summary: In late Season 1, Amanda switches from running a pet and plant business to openly typing for IFF. This story describes how that happened.
1. A Murky Beginning

**OPERATION: CLEAN SWEEP** by AlaskanFan

Season 1

Rated: PG-13

In Savior, Amanda mentions Lee as a friend who's made a bad choice – not specifically a friend from work. In Fearless Dotty, Amanda ends her lunch with Dotty saying that she needs to turn in some typing at the office. So, sometime between those two episodes, Amanda openly starts typing for IFF. This story gives one possibility for that change.

BACKGROUND: In "I Am Not Now Nor Have I Ever Been… A Spy," we learn snippets of information about San Cardenza. The rough fellows at the opening of the show are loyalists to the previous government. They are opposed to the current government's close association with the U.S. government. There is no hint of how long ago Polo de Gregorio took power, but it was long enough to imprison or exile many of his enemies or their family members. It was also long enough for him to acquire three planes, a locomotive, a mine sweeper and a submarine. On his visit, he was scheduled to tour a "San Cardenza exile neighborhood school" suggesting that those exiles have been in the U.S. for some years. I will call them rebels, loyalists or exiles.

 **San Cardenza**

 **February 20, 1984**

Polo de Gregorio frowned as he walked in his elegant garden. He didn't notice the sculpted shrubs, brilliant blooms, or crafted waterfalls. He needed to think, and thinking is hard work. He was a man of action – led by his passion, able to inspire (or terrorize) those who worked for him. But relations with the United States required strategy worthy of a master chess player, so he _must_ think.

The current U.S. President was a simple man, like himself. He saw the world in clear terms of "us" versus "them." For the U.S. President, "us" was always the United States and its allies, versus "them" which was always the Soviet Union and its allies. Whenever a small country like San Cardenza needed American aid, any hesitation by the U.S. government to provide that aid would magically disappear if de Gregorio even hinted that perhaps the communists would be more forthcoming. This was especially easy if the word "Cuba" was mentioned in conversation. Yes, yes, he knew the right strategy with the current President.

His visitor today – he had to look at her business card to remember her name – that's it, Geraldine Fellalo, was running as the Vice Presidential candidate for the opposing party. He snorted in derision at the foolishness of allowing women so much power. Everyone knows that women are weak and easily confused. This one thinks that _reasoning_ with rebels would be a better solution than guns and prisons and absolute control. _Negotiation_ – PAH! He spat in distaste as he thought about her proposal. Sitting at a table seeking _compromise_ – utter nonsense! No, there was really no choice between the political opponents. His only challenge was ensuring that this Ms. Fellalo and her party would not win the election in November. He swished his riding crop vigorously in his agitation. He needed a plan!


	2. A Clean Break

**4247 Maplewood Drive**

 **Monday, February 27**

"Amanda? _Amanda_?" Dotty's shrill voice pierced the silence and Amanda sighed and closed her eyes. She loved her mother and her sons, but she rarely had time alone and had looked forward to another hour of solitude.

"Up here, mother," she shouted back. She finished stowing socks and underwear and closed the dresser drawers. "Did you notice that Jamie had torn his jeans yesterday? Looks like he snagged the pocket on a fence. That was his last decent pair. And Phillip's jeans are three inches too short already. I'll have to postpone the painting again and buy jeans instead."

"Well, in that case, my good news is even better now," Dotty's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Let me guess – Publisher's Clearing House selected your name as their winner," Amanda teased as she straightened Jamie's bedspread.

"No, but that would be nice. My news isn't quite _that_ good. Margarite, the nail technician at Emilio's, broke her leg and right then I saw an opportunity for you."

"Mother, that's terrible! A broken leg is never good news."

"Of course not, but that's not the good part. She can still work, but she _can't_ walk her dogs. She's absolutely devoted to her pets, and when I suggested that she hire a _professional_ dog walker, she was eager to get your contact information. She'll be hiring you for at least 6 weeks, and that should buy a few pairs of jeans, don't you think?"

Amanda started sorting shoes in the bottom of the closet to hide her chagrin. The cover story about providing plant and animal services was wearing thin. She had hoped to phase it out quietly when she could figure out another cover story, but she couldn't come up with another idea to explain her erratic income (and even more erratic hours) with the Agency. On the other hand, a little extra cash would certainly come in handy and how hard could it be to walk a couple of dogs? Baseball cleats, rain boots, dress shoes and winter boots now stood in two neat lines (divided by size). She sighed as she noticed that both boys needed new cleats, too. Amanda emerged from the closet. "That _is_ good news, mother. Thank you for suggesting it."

Dotty beamed with satisfaction and gently patted her newly coiffed hair. "That's what mothers do, dear. Always promoting your best interests."

 **The Agency**

"Scarecrow. My office. Now!" Billy's bellow caused heads to snap up, and everyone not named "Scarecrow" breathed a small sigh of relief.

The summoned agent casually adjusted his tie and sauntered into his boss' office. "What's up?" He leaned against the bookshelf and regarded his boss with growing concern. "It's not LaRue from Audits carping about our expense reports again, is it?"

"No, it's worse! Much worse, Scarecrow. Carmichael Chemical had another security failure over the weekend. I thought you performed a security check on their entire operation after we recovered the canisters of nerve gas from Polo de Gregorio's plane." Billy was agitated enough that his mustache quivered in indignation.

"You're right, Billy, I did. Davy Benson signed off on the security review last year, and it looks like he didn't even visit their laboratory. He had lunch with Carmichael's head of security and just rubber stamped the paperwork." Any reference to Davy Benson was guaranteed to infuriate Lee. Davy's shoddy work had been bad enough, but recently he had been uncovered as a mole inside the Agency, and that made Lee's blood boil. He took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully. As a relaxation technique, it wasn't very effective.

He forced himself back to the current crisis. "The San Cardenza rebels took advantage of several security gaps when they stole the two canisters of nerve gas. My security review was _thorough_ and I double-checked _all_ of the required improvements. Carmichael replaced two broken cameras and repaired some motion sensors. Their guards were thoroughly screened and a new access card reader was installed. How did the new security system get breached?"

"That's the first thing you need to find out. The so-called 'good news' is that they are only missing one tank of the nerve gas this time, _not two_." Billy and Lee shared a matching glare of disbelief.

"Billy, two of those canisters held enough nerve gas to kill the entire population of Arlington, VA and surrounding areas! One canister on the loose can still kill a lot of people – an entire mall, or football stadium, or concert hall. We have to find out who took it and get it back!" The agent shoved a hand through his hair and gritted his teeth to bite back his anger.

"Get out there and see what you can find out. I'll alert the rest of the staff to pump their contacts. We've got to find that nerve gas before we have a disaster."

 **Carmichael Chemical**

 **Security Office**

"Keith, what happened here? Two security breaches in one year will cancel all of your Department of Defense business."

"Don't I know it! Carmichael's will be lucky to survive this disaster. And I expect my career is over, too. It won't matter that I lobbied relentlessly for security upgrades prior to the first theft. And it won't matter that I was on vacation at the time of the second theft. Security is _my_ responsibility and no excuse can change that."

The agent shook his had in commiseration, but he couldn't deny the truth in the other man's words. "So, tell me about it." He stood by Keith's shoulder as both men watched the monitors.

Keith Parker was ex-military and still favored the buzz cut for his thick brown hair. He had softened and spread since retiring from active duty, but his posture was still rigid and his sense of responsibility still keen. "You know, Stetson, the hardest enemy to guard against is the one on your own team. Don't get me wrong, I don't think Stewie meant to sabotage his dad's business, but the kid is a personnel director's nightmare. Richard bullied him through a Business Administration college degree, and has moved him from department to department for the last two years. He's trying to find an assignment that Stewart Richard Carmichael the Third can't screw up."

"What did he have to do with this?" Lee prompted.

"With all of the upgrades, Richard thought that Stewie couldn't mess up in Security. He assumed the machines would do all of the work, and the kid could just monitor the department in my absence. I trained him for a week before I left. Beth and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary with a Caribbean cruise. I just got back in the office this morning, and before I could finish my first cup of coffee, we discovered that one of the nerve gas canisters was missing."

"That nerve gas was top secret. Wasn't it stored under extra security?"

"You know it was. But when the system was down, the extra security was easier to breach as well. It's infuriating that someone knew exactly where to find it."

"Sounds like I need to talk to Stewie. Is he here?"

"Yeah, I'll get him." Parker lifted his phone and punched a few buttons. He spoke briefly and hung up the phone. "He's on his way." He finished his coffee, tossed the cup in his trash can and rocked back in his chair. "Stetson, go easy on the kid. He meant well." The door opened and a slender, young man entered, closing the door behind him. He looked like a Billy Idol wannabe – spiky blonde hair, leather jacket, sullen expression.

His eyes darted around the room as he slouched in a chair. "I've already told you what happened. I don't know what else you want from me." He rubbed his sweaty palms on the thighs of his black jeans and looked at the floor.

"You told _me_ , but you didn't tell the United States government why one of their contractors failed to meet basic security requirements. This is Lee Stetson, and I'll let you tell him exactly what went wrong with our security system."

"I never asked to work here. I don't know why my father won't let me live my own life!" the kid whined.

"You can keep your family issues to yourself." Lee spoke sharply. He had no respect for indulged young men. "What happened here this weekend?" He walked around the security chief's console and stood in front of the pouty young man, looming over him with his hands on his hips.

"Look, I'm an artist. I wanted to show my dad that I can make a living in business even if I don't work for his precious chemical company. My idea was to conceal the security cameras in natural features so that surveillance isn't so obvious. I know we want to deter criminals by having obvious security cameras, but having concealed cameras would be useful to catch the ones who study the system enough to slip past. I've been planning this since the break-in."

"What _exactly_ were you planning?" Lee's frustration was evident in his louder voice. He'd been in this office for 15 minutes and still didn't know how the carefully constructed security system had failed.

"I designed and fabricated natural enclosures for the cameras before Keith left on vacation. I wanted it to be a surprise – you know, it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission. So Saturday night, I turned off the security system, dismounted two of the cameras and encased them in their new camouflage. The system was off for less than two hours. I had measured the dimensions and the re-installation was easy. You would think _someone_ would appreciate a little innovation."

" _You turned off the security system for the entire chemical plant for two hours_!" The agent's voice pounded the young man's bravado and silenced him. Lee stomped towards the window and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to control his anger.

Keith cleared his throat, "To be honest, the kid's camouflage was well-done and we'll probably keep it. He aligned the cameras properly, and you can see for yourself that the video feed covers the same areas specified in your security review."

The praise wiped away half of the resentment on the young man's face leaving a hopeful, underdog expression. "Yeah, I hid one in a simulated wasp's nest under the eaves, and one in a bird house over the fence."

Turning from the window, Lee huffed a sigh. "Who else knew about this before you did it?"

"No one. I told you - it was a surprise." Stewie repeated.

"No one? You sabotaged your dad's company completely alone?"

The young man winced at the agent's harsh words. "Well, Julio helped me with the ideas and assisted with the installation, but that's all."

"Julio?" Lee said flatly.

"Uh, yeah. That would be Julio Pedroza. I rent studio space from him, and he held the ladder and stuff."

"Who else rents studio space or saw you working there? Who else did Julio tell? How many people knew about this secret, Stewie?" The questions shot out of his mouth like bullets. The agent could see the widening ripples of spreading information and the vast potential for disaster. He clamped his mouth shut, clenching his jaw painfully. The stolen nerve gas could be anywhere.

 **The Agency**

 **Billy's Office**

"I visited the studio. It's a large warehouse, and it's a jumble of materials and projects. The space is subdivided into ten areas for various artists, but there are no doors or locks between the stalls. Some renters have lockable cabinets which are considered their private property – requiring a separate search warrant. Anything could be hidden in there, and it would take a team of agents hours to search it. I got a list of renters and frequent visitors to the place and we've been looking for political connections. No one steals nerve gas without a plan to use it." Lee leaned against the window to the bullpen while he updated his boss.

"Right. And with a name like 'Pedroza' at the top of the list, we don't have to look too far to find political connections."

"Up until now, the son has been minimally involved in his father's schemes. If he deliberately cultivated a relationship with the son of the owner of Carmichael Chemical, then it looks like his political role is increasing. Julio wasn't at his studio or in his apartment. We're looking for him." Lee paced the length of the office as he pondered the possibilities.

"Pedroza's reputation as a king-maker is well-deserved. His influence among Washington's power brokers keeps financial aid and other resources flowing to San Cardenza. Every move he makes is calculated to serve Polo de Gregorio's ambitions. What is he up to this time?" The agents exchanged looks as they considered the question.

Francine breezed in with a computer print-out and a thin file folder. "The Pedrozas will be hosting a Republican fund raising dinner at the Hilton on Saturday, March 17. Various Latino Ambassadors and other power brokers are on the guest list. Additionally, Adele Pedroza, Roberto's niece and god-daughter, has recently arrived for an extended visit, and this will be their opportunity to introduce her in Washington society." She handed Billy a photo of the woman.

"Well, well, well, Scarecrow. You might enjoy working this relationship to gain access to the Pedroza estate. She's a looker."

The handsome agent grinned slyly as he snatched the photo from his boss's hands. He eyebrows rose in admiration. The photo was a candid shot of a woman on a balcony – hair tousled, clothing skewed and an unmistakable look of a woman recently bedded. He whistled. "Nice. An assignment I'll gladly accept! Isn't she a little old for a 'coming out' party?" He adjusted his pants to hide his interest in the woman.

"Apparently the lovely Adele is hard to please. After years of coaxing and demanding, her father has given up trying to find a match for her in San Cardenza, and Uncle Roberto has offered to seek a suitable mate for her among the Norte Americanos. She's 25, practically ancient for an unwed daughter in their society." Francine sneered at the cultural assumption that being single at 25 was a bad thing.

"Habits? Haunts? I need to figure out how to meet her naturally."

"She's a skilled rider and Pedroza boards a horse at the Potomac Horse Center. His estate backs up to the extensive trail system that links the national parks in that area. She typically arrives at the stables around 9:00." As usual, the blonde agent had done her homework and was prepared with the necessary details.

"Saddle up, Scarecrow. Looks like you have an appointment in the morning at 9:00."


	3. Foul Plans

**San Cardenza**

 **February 28 – late at night**

There were no clouds in the night sky, and Ceasar Varga was enjoying the stars from his favorite spot on the veranda. The telephone cord was extra long to accommodate his location.

"He took the bait. The hook is firmly set." The caller's satisfaction was evident through the long-distance connection.

"Where did they meet?"

"At the stables, as you suggested. The agent met her this morning and they rode together for an hour. They met again for dinner followed by a walk in a park. The walk was interrupted by some private moments in shadowed areas."

With his own history of private moments with Adele, the listener needed no further explanation. "After the walk?"

"He took her back to Pedroza's and they shared some passionate kisses. They'll meet again at the stables tomorrow. Do you want me to keep watching?"

Ceaser Varga allowed himself a small sigh of slight relief. He could not fully relax, even though the plan was working so far. A close associate of Polo de Gregorio never fully relaxed. "Yes, we cannot become complacent this close to our goal. Be sure she knows to invite him to Pedroza's dinner party next Saturday. We want to keep a close eye on him." After a little small talk and the usual courtesies, the two men ended the call.

Varga stretched back in his chair remembering how he had acquired this particular problem to solve. He had attended a meeting with el Presidente and that Fellalo woman last week. She was abysmally ignorant of the culture and had foolishly urged compromise and negotiation. _Men_ don't compromise: they _conquer_! After the meeting, el Presidente had spent time destroying much of his elegant garden – swishing angrily at flowers until they lay fallen and crushed, throwing handfuls of gravel into his sparkling fountain, and generally stomping and kicking through a mighty temper tantrum. Publicly, they called him "whimsical and unpredictable." Privately, they walked a tightrope trying to benefit from his favor without incurring his brutal wrath.

De Gregorio had returned from venting his displeasure on his garden, fully restored and bursting with excitement. "Brilliant! I am so brilliant I outshine the sun! I outshine seven suns! Come, come. Come, come! We must get started right away."

The mercurial ruler gathered his closest advisers and described an unthinkable scheme. He intended to assassinate the presidential candidate running against the current President of the United States, along with his family, his advisers, hundreds of supporters, and most importantly, the silly woman who was his choice for vice president. The repercussions against a small country like San Cardenza would be staggering if the plan were discovered before it happened, or traced back to them after its success. But the advisers to Polo de Gregorio knew better than to criticize his "brilliant" idea.

Hernando took the risk of asking the first question. "Your Excellency, that is certainly a bold plan and I'm sure you've considered it from every angle. Please excuse my slowness, but I do not understand why you cannot simply kill the offensive woman. Why is it important that we wipe out the entire political party?" His voice trembled on the last few words betraying his doubts about the plan. The men in this room were the most powerful men in San Cardenza. They were not squeamish when faced with political necessity in their own country, but the United States was a powerful political partner that no sane man from such a small country would challenge.

De Gregorio laughed heartily, "You should wear the dunce's cap, Hernando. Killing one woman will not kill the political views of _compromise_." The word dripped with scorn. "We want to eliminate the other party so that the current president is unchallenged. It will simplify his campaign."

Hernando ducked his head in submission and took a spoonful of the fruity frozen dessert served for the meeting.

Beside Hernando, the Minister of Foreign Affairs wiped his mouth primly and ventured a diplomatic observation. "The Norte Americanos believe having two parties is a good thing. They like hearing differing views on every issue."

El Presidente frowned, not certain if that was criticism of the Americans, or perhaps criticism of his brilliant plan. His sharp reply was a clear warning of his displeasure, "We do not tolerate dissent in San Cardenza. Maybe they will like having elections the San Cardenzan way when they have tried it." His eyes flickered with fury. His advisers were not performing well today.

El Presidente's brother-in-law tried to lighten the tension. "I am awed by your brilliant plan. Please, tell us more. Precisely _how_ do you expect to achieve this mass killing?"

Polo de Gregorio stomped his feet and waved his arms at the assembly. "That is _your job_ ," he raged. "I have given you the outline. You figure out how to achieve it."

There was an uncomfortable silence around the table as the men considered their possible responses. After many furtive glances his way, and a sharp elbow in the ribs from the man beside him, Varga cleared his throat, sipped some water, cleared his throat again and said hesitantly, "Your Excellency, you'll remember our recent interactions with the Agency. Surely, we cannot hope to evade detection in this matter by their Mr. Stetson."

The reprisal was swift. El Presidente had picked up his dessert bowl, flung its slushy contents into Varga's face and then shattered the crystal bowl on the wall behind him. Wiping the icy, sticky, sweet concoction from his face with a handkerchief, Varga controlled his rage by trying to be grateful that the bowl hadn't been thrown _at him_. He was only partially successful. He then reminded himself, as he flicked the mess of ice chips and bits of fruit from his suit, that whole families had been imprisoned by the raging maniac at the head of the table. That was a stronger incentive to govern his behavior.

"Then fix it!" shouted the maniac, and the problem was dumped on Varga's shoulders.

Varga lay awake that night considering how to safely neutralize the American agent. Killing him would have been too risky. San Cardenza could not plausibly request his assistance locally or engineer his reassignment to some place far from D.C. With great reluctance, he decided to enlist the services of San Cardenza's best agent – Adele Pedroza. She wasn't formally an agent, of course. Women didn't _do_ such things. But no woman was more skilled at distracting men, and eliciting information as the Pedroza honey trap.


	4. Cleaning Crew

**Columbia Heights**

 **Monday, March 5**

It took a couple of days, but Amanda had finally sorted out the six frisky dogs and arranged a suitable schedule. Margarite wanted Amanda to give them two walks a day while she was at work so that she could dote on "the little darlings" during the evenings. Amanda enjoyed the long walks exploring the Columbia Heights neighborhood, although the dogs needed some obedience training.

This afternoon, Margarite's niece was assisting her into the house as Amanda and the dogs were returning from a lively exploration of nearby streets. Apparently, the enticing aromas of garbage day had pushed her charges into overdrive. Her shoulders ached from restraining the energetic little bodies, and their excitement at returning home overwhelmed her. She released the leashes allowing all six dogs to stampede their fond mistress. The cacophony of barks, whines, and yips, combined with shrill Spanish endearments quieted only when the love-fest moved indoors.

Amanda followed them to untangle and remove the leashes, and refill dog food and water bowls before leaving. The chaos in the kitchen subsided as the dogs turned to devour their dinners.

Margarite introduced her niece. "Luiza works in housekeeping for Roberto Pedroza." She paused, expectantly and Amanda tried to look suitably impressed, although she didn't recognize the name. "The Pedroza's will be hosting a formal dinner party next week, March 10 and they always hire extra help to get the house and gardens ready for guests. Would you be interested in a one-day job of housekeeping?"

"Well, sure, I'd be interested. I'll need to check my schedule before committing though. When would they need me to work?"

Luiza flashed a bright smile at Amanda's response. "Next Friday, the 9th, will be the work day for the clean-up crew. Most of the work on Saturday will be done by the catering company as they bring in the tables and chairs and food."

Mr. Melrose had been very accommodating of Amanda's dog walking schedule, and Amanda thought he would probably give her permission to do this, too. Every little bit of extra income was helpful when you have two growing boys. "I can let you know tomorrow."

 **The Agency**

 **Tuesday, March 6**

Lee finished debriefing Billy about the security review at Potomac Weapons & Armaments Center (PWAC) and changed topics. "I'm a little concerned about this situation with Adele, Billy."

"Why? I thought things were going well."

"That's the problem: It's going too well. Almost textbook. I'm getting a little hint that I'm being played."

"Oh, really?"

"It's an enjoyable assignment, but I've been blocked at every attempt to find out anything. I'm never alone in Pedroza's house. Adele won't even leave me to powder her nose unless someone else is in the room. She'll mention brief comments about Uncle Roberto's activities and interests, but she says nothing of importance. The evasions are seamless, entirely too skillful."

"Maybe it's time to get someone else in there. We can't give them a chance to use that nerve gas."

"Not yet, Billy. We can't start tripping over ourselves. Give me another few days to see what I can find. There's a formal dinner this weekend. With enough guests on the premises, maybe I can find a way to disappear for a few moments and explore."

There was a gentle tap on the door, and Amanda waved through the window. Billy smiled and gestured for her to come in.

"Hello, Mr. Melrose. Lee." Her cheeks were still pink from the cold weather. "I've brought my written report about Alan Squires, sir, and I needed to check with you about my schedule this week." She handed Billy the report. "If you don't need me on Friday, I'll be up in Gaithersburg, MD doing some housecleaning."

"You couldn't find any dirty houses in Arlington to clean?" teased Lee.

"Well, of course there are dirty houses in Arlington, but the niece of the woman with the broken leg who's hired me to walk her dogs doesn't work in Arlington. She works in Gaithersburg, for a Mr. Pedroza, and he's the one having a party and hiring extra staff for the clean-up."

Billy listened carefully to the flow of words, while Lee picked out the important pieces. They spoke at the same time, "Pedroza?"

Lee objected, "You shouldn't take that job Amanda. He may be involved in some very shady activities." He looked to Billy for support.

"That's right. It seems like he might be mixed up with that nerve gas incident from a few weeks ago. One of those canisters has gone missing again. You _do_ remember that, don't you? No recurring problems with memory loss, right?"

"Oh, no sir. My memory is just fine. That was an awful thing they tried to do to a bunch of innocent people. Oh, sir, please let me help. I'll have access to the house, and I can keep my eyes and ears open, and I know what the nerve gas canisters look like, you know I do."

"Amanda, just stay away. That would be the most helpful thing you could do."

"Scarecrow, you just said that you're never alone on the estate. Mrs. King would have legitimate reason to be there and just take a casual look around." Billy pointed a finger at her, "Listen to me - you keep it light and casual. Don't put yourself in a dangerous situation. Just look and listen."

"Yes, sir!" Amanda beamed with pleasure. With a quiet groan, Lee dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose hard.


	5. Sweating the Details

**Pedroza's Study**

 **Friday, March 9**

Amanda nodded pleasantly to another housekeeper as she energetically vacuumed the hall. She bent to unplug the appliance from the wall, using the movement to look behind her. The other woman turned down another hall without a backward glance, and Amanda quickly pushed the vacuum into the impressive office and closed the door behind her. She left the heavy machine partially blocking the door so that she wouldn't be surprised by a sudden entrance – not so close that the door couldn't be opened, but close enough to cause minor difficulty for anyone entering and create plenty of noise to warn her. She pushed up the long sleeves of her t-shirt and adjusted the red bandanna around her head.

She circled around the desk and picked up the leather bound schedule. One strong arm clapped a hand over her mouth stifling her cries of alarm as another arm kept her immobile. "Hush, Amanda. It's me. Shh... Shh..." Lee whispered forcefully, and let go of her.

She relaxed a little, but the adrenaline was still pumping through her veins. Heart pounding she turned to face him. "Can't you just say 'hello'? Do you enjoy scaring the life out of me?" she demanded in panicked whispers.

"I couldn't risk anyone hearing you. What are you doing, sneaking around in here?" he challenged in a low voice.

"Sneaking? You're the one sneaking. I am part of the housekeeping staff. I thought I could find something that would help the case," she defended.

"Oh, you did. So, check his calendar and tell me what his plans are for today." Lee's mouth puckered with suppressed amusement.

With a shake of her head, Amanda ran her finger down the weekly tabs and turned to the correct day. She smiled weakly, "I, uh,… it's in Spanish. I can't read it."

"What a surprise," he said dryly. "Amanda, I know you want to help, but this is really too dangerous and you're not trained for this kind of operation." His finger jabbed the air to emphasize his words.

Her reply was cut off by the opening door. Lee's eyes opened wide and he pointed sharply towards the space under the desk. Simultaneously, he grabbed a fistful of curtain and ducked behind the thick fabric, carefully concealing his feet. Quicker than it takes to describe the action, Amanda slipped off her headband, untied the knot and shook out the red bandanna. As the door opened further, Roberto Pedroza could see the temporary housekeeper with a wad of fabric in one hand, dusting a handful of books. Her red, long-sleeved t-shirt read Calvin Elementary School in bold white letters. She looked up cheerfully, "Yes, sir. We'll have this place spotless for your big party."

His eyes darted to a painting on the wall featuring a desert landscape, and back to her. He nodded curtly and moved behind the desk, removing a file folder from one of the drawers. He strode past the offensive vacuum leaving the door open as he left. Amanda wilted with relief and peaked behind the curtain, "He's gone, but the door is still open."

"Then close the door! Turn on the vacuum and block the door with it while I search the office. We don't have a minute to waste."

She went to turn on the vacuum and position it for better protection. The roar made it necessary for them to speak directly into each others ears to be heard without shouting. "Lee, I don't think you need to search the office. Whatever he's hiding is behind that painting." She pointed helpfully.

"We know there is no safe in this room. There is nothing behind that painting." Despite his scornful words, Lee walked across the room and lifted the painting from the wall. He turned to face her, mouthing, "See, no safe."

Amanda lifted one slender eyebrow and nodded at the painting in his hands. He followed her eyes and saw a manila envelope on the back of the painting securely taped along the bottom and both sides, allowing the contents to be removed at the top. With a small sigh, thinking " _How does she always get so lucky?_ " he removed the single page from the envelope and scanned it quickly. He propped the painting against the wall, put the paper on the desk, removed a small camera from his pocket and took several photos. He replaced the painting, double-checking to be sure that it was level, and nodded jauntily to Amanda. He turned to the window and left the way he had come in.

 **Roberto Pedroza's Cadillac**

As he left for the Embassy, Roberto Pedroza frowned, disturbed by the woman in his study. The temporary help were never assigned to work in there, but it was possible that she had been assigned to vacuum the hall and had mistakenly assumed the assignment included cleaning his office. He would have to start locking the office door to keep out further intrusions. He absently smoothed his mustache and flicked lint from his tailored suit. His driver held the back door open and offered today's newspaper as Roberto entered the car. He accepted the paper, but didn't open it. He had too much on his mind.

Like Ceasar Varga, Roberto knew that El Presidente didn't tolerate mistakes, even small ones like strange women in the wrong place. Living in D.C., Pedroza enjoyed the perks of good living, far from the excesses of El Presidente's emotions. His two younger sons still lived in San Cardenza - openly serving as hostages for his good behavior. Controlling a man's family was a sure way to control a man.

Julio never had a head for political strategy and Pedroza had been very pleasantly surprised three weeks ago to learn that his oldest son had taken the initiative to develop a relationship with the heir to Carmichael Chemical, devise a scheme to by-pass a tightly controlled security system, and provide San Cardenza with a valuable weapon. Pedroza recalled Julio's conversation over dinner - a useful conversation, indeed.

Julio's interest in Carmichael had started six weeks ago when the San Cardenza rebels had stolen two canisters of nerve gas and installed them on a plane being sold to El Presidente. The nerve gas had been intended to be released as the plane maneuvered over Arlington, VA, causing an international incident to embarrass San Cardenza and end the country's cozy relationship with the U.S. The scheme had been prevented at the last possible moment, and had not been publicized. But the Pedroza household had been consumed by the matter for days – uncovering the identities of the rebels, digging for details of the conspiracy and soothing ruffled political feathers.

"I've done something that you might find useful, or maybe it will turn out to be nothing much. That nerve gas the rebels tried to use came from Carmichael Chemicals and I remembered that I know the heir of the corporation. I met him months ago in a welding class. It was easy enough to find him again, and I invited him over for a few beers. I wanted to hear about the nerve gas. You know, find out if it's as dangerous as the federales say it is. Stewie was a gold-mine of information."

"Stewie? Sounds like he's twelve." Roberto scoffed, swirling cognac in his glass.

"He says 'Only losers come in third', and he loathes being the Third Stewart Richard Carmichael; so he resists adopting a more grown-up version of the family name. He told me that the nerve gas is really powerful stuff. I also learned that Carmichael's panicked at the theft of these canisters, and invested in some heavy duty security upgrades." He paused to sip some wine before launching into the information that was really important - the part that he hoped his father would like. He shook his curly hair away from his face and continued.

"The more Stewie drank, the more he talked. I realized if we want access to the chemical plant, we'd have to move soon. I suggested that he use some of his welding and design skills to improve the security system, expecting that the system would be turned off while he installed his work. I offered him a stall in my artist's warehouse and I loan him tools for the project. That way, he has a place to do the work away from his father and I can control his progress. I can speed up his project or slow it down to make sure we can take full advantage of the opportunity." He had never ventured into his father's political schemes and self-doubt stole his confidence.

Roberto nodded thoughtfully. "There are a few ways that we could use this to our advantage. What did you think we might do with access to the chemical plant?" His father showed mild interest. That was good.

Julio sipped a little more liquid courage. "I remembered when you installed a security system at the house, it took months to get used to entering the codes and following the procedures automatically. I figured the first few weeks of the new system would be the ideal time to get access to Carmichael's for ourselves. It isn't very original, but I thought we might steal the nerve gas and use it for revenge on the rebels." He braced himself for his father's reaction.

Roberto sneered, "Revenge is not a useful political tool when your opponents are already thoroughly beaten. Still, it's not a bad idea." He stroked his beard gravely. "You're right that we should move quickly. Speed the projects as much as you can without raising Carmichael's suspicions. Keep him grateful and pliable. I'll get back with you on that."

Varga's frantic call the next day shifted Julio's simple plan into high priority. What started as his son's petty notion of revenge developed into an audacious scheme to bring down a political party. El Presidente had been offended by the Democratic Party's vice presidential candidate, and he was determined to prevent that party from winning the election. Rather than simply assassinating one person, Pedroza and Varga concocted an ambitious plan to release the nerve gas into a campaign event, and plant evidence leading government investigators back to the exiles, so comfortably settled in the D.C. area. Pedroza knew that some rebels had slipped the net in their original gassing attempt, and justice would be served by implicating them in this mass tragedy. It was intolerable having to compete with the rebels for public opinion and international aid. Wiping out that faction would solidify de Gregorio's hold on San Cardenza and strengthen Pedroza's influence in Washington.

As Pedroza's driver steered the car through traffic, Pedroza reviewed their progress. The pieces of the plan had come together smoothly. Julio's project to access the chemical plant had been a success and the nerve gas was securely hidden. Adele had arrived last week to distract the top American agent and Stetson was deeply mired in her charms already. They still needed to devise a dispersal method for the nerve gas to release it at the Democratic campaign rally. ( _Through the duct system? Open the canister under the speaker's platform during dinner? Hmm… The problem was finding a way to reliably delay the release so that it didn't become a suicide mission._ ) And finally, a critical part of the plan was leaving a trail back to the rebels. ( _Could they dupe one of the rebel supporters into releasing the gas, firmly implicating that faction in the event? His death would be no loss to de Gregorio and could be the start of the investigation._ ) The Norte Americanos must be satisfied with the rebels as the culprits so that they do not look elsewhere for someone to blame.

Pedroza concentrated on the false evidence as he arrived for his meeting at the Embassy. The evidence trail would have to be very good for the American justice system to prove "beyond a reasonable doubt" that the exiles of San Cardenza were responsible for this tragedy. The inside sources, anonymous donors and masterminds of the plan to murder Arlington for international intrigue would be exposed and brought to justice. Today's meeting would ensure their fate.

 **The Agency**

"We can't storm their Embassy or get a warrant to search Pedroza's estate without cause! We only _think_ they stole the nerve gas. We don't have any evidence!" Billy often thought of his senior agent as a stallion that was only partly tamed. He was sawing the reins hard this time to keep the man under control. "Give me something to work with, man!"

"The paper from Pedroza's study is enough to get started, Billy! We have a list of names – all big money in politics - the date, hell, Pedroza's fingerprints are all over this. We _know_ they stole the gas!"

"But, that's not enough for a judge's warrant, Scarecrow! You know that!"

"Look, the only political events that night is the Republican fund raiser that Pedroza is hosting, and the Democratic Party rally. Unless you think Pedroza has a suicide wish, it's obvious that he's targeting the campaign rally." The men's voices had gotten louder as they debated the limited information.

"If I may interrupt," Francine interjected calmly. "Why don't we go get the information we need? We know he sent Julio back to San Cardenza, and we know that Julio is the weak link. My Spanish is fluent and I'm better than Adele Pedroza at getting information from a besotted man. Let me go to San Cardenza, Billy. I can be back by Monday with enough information to justify a search warrant."

Billy considered for only a moment, "Pack your bags, Francine. Give it your best shot."

She smirked at Lee, triumphantly, "Twenty bucks says I find out more from Julio than you learn this weekend at your fancy dinner."

Lee grinned at the challenge, " _More_ than I learn? Not just enough for a search warrant? You're on. Enjoy your trip."

Billy ignored their rivalry and continued, "And, Scarecrow, work Pedroza's event tomorrow night to get some information. If the date from the paper in the study is correct, we only have a week to figure out where and how they expect to use that gas. We can't afford any mistakes on this."

 **Pedroza's Estate**

The problem with how to disperse the nerve gas was solved that night during the 11:00 news broadcast. The Democrats had developed a theme of "bursting their bubble." In various contexts, they would burst the Republican bubble of false confidence in the economy, or the bubble of empty promises, or the bubble of scandalous international intrigues. Every campaign rally ended with the party leaders bursting balloons. As the film rolled of tonight's rally in New Jersey, Pedroza's fertile imagination produced the answer. With the nerve gas filling the balloons, he could ensure that the leaders seated on the platform would be the first ones killed.

He laughed out loud when he realized how the balloons could provide a useful end to the strange woman in his study. Tomorrow, he would find out who she is, and he would use his political connections to put her on the decorating staff for the Democratic Party campaign rally for Maryland. _She_ would be the one to fill the balloons with the nerve gas. _She_ would be the one to attach those particular balloons to the speaker's podium. _She_ would be the one responsible for all of those deaths.


	6. Playing Dirty

**4247 Maplewood Drive**

 **March 12 - Monday morning**

After the morning frenzy, Amanda was tidying the kitchen when the phone rang. Cradling the handset between her shoulder and her ear, she continued her work while she talked.

"Hello?"

"Amanda, it's Abby Treloggen, Cassidy's mom."

"Oh, hi, Abby. Gee, it's been ages since I've heard from you. How's the new house?"

"We're enjoying the larger space, and the new school system is wonderful. I'm calling as a favor for a friend. You'll remember meeting Eduardo at Cassidy's pool party, right?"

"Uh, well, there were a lot of folks there from your new neighborhood, and I'm not sure I remember Eduardo."

"Well, he sure remembers you." Abby's voice had assumed a sing-song mocking tone. "He described you in glowing detail. You made quite the impression."

Amanda blushed. "You said you were calling about a favor. What do you want me to do?"

"Eduardo is very involved in local politics and he asked if I and 'my very close friend, Amanda' would be available to decorate the Quince Orchard Country Club for the Democratic Presidential Campaign rally on Saturday. Cassidy takes horseback riding lessons near there at the Potomac Horse Center. Maybe you've been there; they host wonderful children's birthday parties. He had people scheduled to do it, but they've all gotten this nasty flu that's going around. If you ask me, he was just looking for an excuse to meet you again. Say you'll do it?"

"This Saturday? What time?"

"The rally begins at 6:00, so they want us to be finished by 4:00. If you can get up here by 11:00, we can get our work done and maybe enjoy a late lunch together. Or maybe Eduardo will want to take you to lunch." The mocking sing-song tone was back.

"Sure, I can do that." She wiped her hands on the dish towel and found a pen and notepad. "Give me directions about where to meet you and I'll put it on the calendar."

She hung up the phone, mildly intrigued. Eduardo? Ed? Eddie? No, she couldn't recall him, but this could get interesting.

 **Pedroza Estate**

Roberto was finishing a late breakfast when he heard the front door open and close. Staccato steps announced her presence before Adele joined him at the table. She yawned widely and poured herself a glass of orange juice.

"No coffee this morning?" He asked pleasantly.

"No. I need to go to bed. I don't want the caffeine keeping me awake."

"You look like you just got _out_ of bed. Late night?"

She smiled, "This has been a very, ah... invigorating assignment. I am Stetson's playful kitten and you know cats are nocturnal creatures." Her sultry voice nearly purred with satisfaction. "He is so sleep deprived he can't remember to pay his bills. I'm sure he will not be able to properly investigate anything." Her fingers threaded through her tumbled hair and she smiled like the cat who got the cream.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Just remember to keep _your_ mind on what's important. I want him at your side during the Hilton fund raiser this weekend, so that we _know_ he's not poking around at the Democratic rally. I'm heading to the embassy. Sleep well."

 **In Lee's Porsche**

As Lee drove to the office, he reviewed his phone call with Francine, trying to remember exactly what he said that Adele might have heard. He was sure he answered the phone with "Stetson" not "Scarecrow" so that was good.

Francine had started with, "Oh, good, I'm glad I caught you. I couldn't get Billy at the office and you know how slow the switchboard can be about messages. I'm going to be late getting back."

He had answered, "Late? What do you mean?"

Francine had answered, "Things started moving quickly last night and I couldn't get my intended flight out. I'm at the airport now and I've got some solid intel. Looks like you owe me 20 bucks! My flight will arrive at 7:00. We can swap stories over dinner. And, Stetson, I like fresh crisp bills."

He said, "Don't worry, you'll get your money, if you can prove your claim." _That_ was when he had turned around and noticed Adele standing in the doorway to his bedroom wearing nothing but his shirt. And it wasn't even buttoned. Her wild, curly hair framed her face and her lips puckered into a kiss. He blew her a kiss, winked and shifted gears into attack-mode on his phone call.

"I'm sick of you collectors horsing around and staying hot on my trail. I have work to do. I said you'll get your money, and you have to be satisfied with that."

Francine chuckled, "Let me guess, the Pedroza honey trap is right there in your bed and you need to get back to work."

He had replied with a snarl, "You got it, pal." And slammed the phone down, moving toward Adele with a hungry look in his eyes. "How can I waste time with bill collectors when you look like that?"

He drummed on the steering wheel along with an upbeat jazz tune on the radio and nodded with approval. The phone call was clean on his end; Adele would have heard him talking to a bill collector. And then in the bedroom, well… It was a dream job that would pay him to have that much fun. Not a bad way to start the day, he smirked.

 **The Agency conference room**

 **Monday evening**

The agents sorted out sandwiches, chips and sodas, then settled themselves around the table.

"Got that crisp 20, Scarecrow? I have plans for it already." Francine challenged with a wink. Her bold purple blouse was adorned with a small paper umbrella in the pocket.

"That's counting your chickens before they hatch, Francine. Spill your intel and we'll see if it beats mine."

"I managed to meet Julio while he was playing beach volleyball, Saturday afternoon. I stepped into him as he was lunging to capture a stray shot, and let him knock me to the sand. Well, what man could resist playing white knight to a lonely senorita in distress, when he caused the distress? I let him console "Bianca" with dinner, dancing, a moonlight stroll…" she shrugged, "it was almost too easy."

"Nice tan, _Bianca_." Lee saluted her with his soda bottle then took a long swallow.

"Thanks. Julio was eager to talk to a sympathetic listener. That first night, he talked mostly about living up to his father's expectations. All he said then was that his father was "politically involved" while Julio devoted his life to art. On Sunday, I told a story about "Bianca's" family being victims to de Gregorio's brutality. That worked like a charm. Julio topped my story with one of his own." She leaned forward intently, brandishing a pickle spear for emphasis. "Solid confirmation - de Gregorio plans to murder the Democratic Party's presidential candidate, his family and entourage with the nerve gas at a political rally this Saturday. Julio regrets his role in obtaining the nerve gas, and knows that el Presidente will hold it over his head as blackmail for the rest of his life."

Billy snorted, "He should have thought about that before he stole the gas." He popped a corn chip in his mouth.

"He thought they might use it against the rebel faction – you know, poetic justice. He didn't know how they planned to use it until his father sent him back to San Cardenza. His father told him that leaving the U.S. was the only way to avoid the federal investigation that would surely follow the mass tragedy."

Lee laughed scornfully, "He can't go far enough to get away from this investigation. So we know when and where they plan to use it. Did he say where they've hidden the gas? How they will disperse it?"

"No. His father drove him to the airport the morning after the security breach. He's been out of the loop since then." She took a bite of the pickle.

"And you think you'll win 20 bucks based on _that_ information? We had _guessed_ that much, Francine!"

"I haven't heard anything from you that tops it."

"Then listen to this and be prepared to hand over my winnings." Lee balled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it into the trash can several feet away. He moved to the white board and started gesturing as he spoke. "We started with the list of names from Pedroza's study. These men are big money players in politics, and they are all in cahoots with Pedroza and de Gregorio in some way. They spread their spending among both Republicans and Democrats, but always with an eye towards what will be advantageous to San Cardenza. Immigration reforms, drug policies, trade agreements – they buy swing votes in either political party. On closely contested legislation, ten votes can make or break the deal. The Republican fund-raising dinner at the Hilton will be a safe haven for these financiers, while the Democrats are targeted by the gas. We believe this list represents the money men that Pedroza wants to protect."

"If these men influence votes _for_ San Cardenza, I figured there would be a corresponding group still loyal to the old regime; and, I was right. I reviewed the investigation against the exiled group involved in the airplane sabotage. Beyond the spotlight on the thugs chanting slogans and doing bully-work, there had to be people to finance information and provide jobs at Alabam Aircraft. This second list are the people who work for the opposition." The handsome agent waved at the second list, then stood with his feet wide and his hands on his hips. "This weekend, I was deliberately being fed information at Pedroza's dinner party which would steer me directly against the rebel leadership. Some of the info was true, which lends an aura of credibility to the rest of what they told me. I realized that Pedroza is targeting these people to implicate them in the mass murder."

"So San Cardenza is fighting its civil war in Washington, D.C." Francine summarized with wide eyes.

"Like hell they are! I'll get on the phone and cancel that political rally," the Section Chief rumbled.

"You can't do that, Billy! They'll just use the gas somewhere else. We need to let this thing unfold so that we can recover the missing canister and wrap up everyone involved. We know Pedroza plays both sides of the political fence, and has dozens of players wielding influence around town. We can't shut down one event and lose this prime opportunity."

"Lee's right, Billy. It might not change our national stance on San Cardenza, but they need a bloody nose. We know de Gregorio is a ruthless dictator, and the fear is so thick in that country that I could taste it. We won't take down his regime, but this will give the U.S. some political leverage when he comes asking for more favors."

"And how do you two suggest we get in there and stop it, without getting ourselves killed by the nerve gas?"

"The Democrat's event will be at the Quince Orchard Country Club, which is on the same trail system that includes Pedroza's estate and the Potomac Horse Center. I can scout the area this week while riding with Adele, and be in the area on Saturday. They have to set the gas before the event, and we'll remove the danger before the rally gets started."

"And I can be on-site Saturday as part of a news crew. In the hubbub of preparations, they'll never notice one more person looking for electrical outlets or the ladies room. We'll find the canister before they're ready to use it."

"You better be damn sure to recover that nerve gas. We can't let Pedroza's plan succeed."

"Oh, just one more thing. Last night at dinner, Julio mentioned that he had spoken to his father who had asked him if he knew "Amanda King" or if Carmichael had ever mentioned her. I could hardly question him about such a random reference, but I'm sure it's not a problem. Her phone number is still listed under "Joe King" and there are more than a hundred phone numbers for "King" in the Arlington area. There's no way they'd find her."

Lee whirled at her glib comment. "Francine, she was a key player in foiling the plot to gas all of Arlington. The rebels _kidnapped her twice_ and she admitted that she worked for the Agency. She interacted _personally_ with de Gregorio. They know who she is and where she lives, remember? And Pedroza saw her in his study on Friday. He didn't know her name then; she was just part of the cleaning crew. He must have been suspicious of her and started asking questions. Billy..."

He was cut short by his bosses' resigned agreement, "I'll have someone watching the house until we locate the nerve gas. Scarecrow, do you have any idea how much of my departmental budget goes toward protecting Mrs. King and her family?"

The tall agent brushed his hand through his hair and huffed in annoyance. "I know, I know. But she's a magnet for trouble. We can't leave her family exposed to every ruthless killer that threatens national security. I'll make sure she doesn't go anywhere near that Democratic Party rally this weekend."

 **The Agency file room**

 **March 16 - Friday afternoon**

Amanda returned from the ladies room with a small wad of damp paper towels. She had worked in the file room all morning and her hands were filthy from the dust and grime. She planned to wipe every surface before leaving for the day.

She was energetically scrubbing the last row of file cabinets when Lee walked in with an armload of untidy files. He dumped them onto the work table and said, "That's the last of this batch. These guys are some of the best dressed, low lifes in town." He grimaced his disgust.

"I'll file these and then I need to leave early to get my groceries before my dog walking appointment this evening." She picked up three of the files after they slid to the floor, then stabilized the heap of manila folders.

"Yeah. How's that going?"

"The dogs have been a lot of fun and the money is certainly useful." Lowering her voice, she leaned toward him, "Have you found the nerve gas yet?"

"Not yet, but we're getting close. Keep your eyes open for it; you might find it hidden among the cans of whipped cream," he teased, flashing his dimples.

"Don't even joke about something so serious," she scoffed. "But I _will_ keep looking. You never know where they could have hidden it."

The agent turned to leave, but stopped at the doorway. "Say, uh… do you have any particular plans this weekend?"

"Nothing I couldn't change. Do you need me to work on the case?" she replied eagerly

"No, no, nothing like that. I was just curious."

"Oh, well then... curious... I have the dog walking twice a day, and on Saturday I'm helping a friend with some decorating."

"That sounds good. Stay safe Amanda." And he strode down the hall satisfied that she wouldn't have time to get mixed up in political events this weekend.


	7. Clean Getaway

**Columbia Heights**

 **March 17 - Saturday morning**

The morning dog walk was nearly over when Amanda's day took a turn for the worse. It was a mild day, hinting of Spring, and the dogs were chafing at the restraint of the leashes. They had tugged Amanda in all directions during the long walk, and she was glad to be on the home stretch.

Within sight of Margarite's house, a squirrel ran across the street in front of them, and up a tree. At the same time, a cat streaked from under a hedge and ran in the opposite direction to hide under a porch on the other side of the street. All six dogs shifted into hyper-drive. Some chased in this direction after the squirrel and some chased in that direction after the cat. In the melee, the leashes became tangled around Amanda's legs, and she tripped over the curb and landed hard on her hands and knees. She lost her grip on the leashes and the straining dogs pulled free.

All six dogs went racing off while Amanda picked herself up and surveyed the damage - two sore wrists, two sore shoulders, one torn pants leg and a nasty looking scrape underneath. She limped to the squirrel's tree and picked up the leashes of those four dogs, and tugged them to the other side of the street to reclaim the dogs barking at the porch.

As she turned towards Margarite's again, she saw that the uproar had brought the older woman onto her porch. "Amanda, are you alright? You're limping and you've torn your jeans."

"I'm fine. I'm fine. It was the funniest thing. I guess the dogs just got away from me." Amanda laughed it off, but her knee was throbbing.

"Let me get some things and we'll clean that up." Margarite adeptly maneuvered her crutches through the swirl of dogs and leashes and they all moved into the kitchen.

Amanda rolled her shoulders gently and tested the movement of her wrists. She decided nothing was broken or dislocated, only strained muscles. Margarite insisted that Amanda take off her jeans to properly clean her knee, loaning her a housecoat for modesty. Her left knee was merely bruised, but the right knee was badly scraped, with mud and road debris caked in the torn skin. Amanda cleaned it thoroughly, applied disinfectant, and then bandaged it. Margarite brushed off the mud from the jeans, then used an adhesive roller to remove most of the dog hair.

"That knee is starting to swell. Let me get you an ice pack, and I can iron on a patch to cover this hole while you rest."

"Oh, no, don't bother. I can take care of that later. I'm actually late for another appointment, so I really must be going." Amanda put her jeans back on, ready to leave.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am that those naughty dogs caused such a ruckus. I keep intending to send them to obedience school, but with six, it is too expensive."

"Don't you worry. It's an expected hazard of the job. It will all heal in a day or two with a little rest. I'll be fine. See you this evening."

 **Quince Orchard Country Club**

Amanda was flustered by arriving late, but realized that she would hardly be noticed in the bustle. There was a team of men setting up chairs which was getting in the way of another team of men laying audio cables between the podium and the sound booth. There were loud voices competing to be heard, calling for more tape or asking questions about flower placement. She looked for Abby's fashionably permed hair-do, and dramatically colored red hair. She spotted her friend on the low stage talking to a dark-haired man.

"Oh, there you are!" Abby waved and then scurried over to give her a fake hug, whispering, "Eduardo didn't want to get started without you. He is quite smitten." With a little giggle, she slipped her arm through Amanda's and steered her onto the stage saying, "Amanda, I'm sure you remember Eduardo. He's ready to tell us what to do."

He smoothly reached out to take her hand and smiled charmingly into her eyes. "It's a pleasure to see you again. I've been looking forward to today."

Amanda smiled back, but inwardly, she was mildly alarmed. She was quite sure she had never met this man before. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to have her here and it probably wasn't for her benefit. Eduardo was still holding her hand, so she tugged her hand free and rolled up the sleeves of her thick flannel shirt. "I'm happy to help. Where do you want us to start?"

The next hour was spent covering the tables, tacking up the fabric and bunting along the stage, and other decorative work. While she worked, Amanda stayed alert to the activities in the large room. She had a bad feeling about this. She saw that film crews had arrived and a van outside advertised Bob's Balloons. There were several teams clustered around the large helium tanks getting started. Eduardo approached carrying a crate of glasses and a stack of campaign brochures.

"Lay these along the table at each chair. Then we'll help with the balloons."

There was some delay, and Amanda took the opportunity for a bathroom break. Her knee hadn't bothered her much, but with all of the stooping, it was starting to protest. She was pleased to see that the bandage was still dry.

When she returned to the club room, she could see that the balloon man was fastening the balloons to a long string which formed an arch over the doorway. Two other teams were more slowly doing the same thing on either side of the large room. A third team was fastening helium balloons to poles which could quickly be moved into the center of the audience allowing everyone a chance to "burst their bubble" at the end of the evening.

She stepped up onto the stage and her heart stopped when she saw the small canister beside the box of blue and red balloons. Carefully not jumping to conclusions, she casually approached the table and turned the silver canister until she could see the interlocking "C's" - the logo for Carmichael Chemical. She gasped as Abby touched her arm.

"Eduardo wants us to fill these balloons and place two at each of the high points in the swag. That gives one balloon each to the folks at the speaker's table, and then we'll fasten balloons to two poles that will flank the speaker. That will allow the staff seated on the back edge of the platform to have plenty of balloons. It will look festive on camera, don't you think?" Pointing and gesturing to describe their task, Abby was surprised when she turned back to Amanda.

Wild-eyed, Amanda clapped her hand to her chest and started breathing raggedly. "Allergies!" she gasped. "Inhaler," gasp, gasp. She clutched the ample fabric of her plaid shirt and loosened it from her jeans. "Car glove compartment." Collapsing into a chair facing away from the room, she waved Abby toward the door. As soon as the red haired woman had stepped off the stage, Amanda grabbed the shiny nerve gas canister and dropped it down her blouse, double checking that the shirt tail was still confined by her waistband. Holding her arms tightly across her chest, still feigning an asthma attack, she bolted off the stage and through a side door marked "Emergency Exit Only." The door slammed closed loudly behind her as she dashed into the wooded area behind the clubhouse. Too late, she realized that sending Abby to the car meant that Amanda couldn't use the car for her escape. She would just have to get away, and then figure out how to get somewhere safe.

Her sprint into the woods hadn't been good for her knee and Amanda was soon limping. She pushed onward, wanting as much distance as possible between her and the clubhouse before someone got close to finding her. She didn't know what else she could have done. She couldn't let the nerve gas fill the balloons. Those delicate containers could have burst at any time. No, waiting until the Agency could come to confiscate the balloons would have been too risky. She knew the riding trails would eventually lead to horse stables where she could find a phone. She stayed near the trail, but didn't want to be exposed on it. That made her journey more difficult as the terrain was uneven beneath the dead leaves.

Her caution was justified as she soon heard hooves galloping towards her. Above that sound was a woman's voice shouting, "Studson, you cheated again! Studson!" And a second set of hoof sounds joined the first, but from farther away. Amanda dodged quickly behind a clump of juniper. Peeking through a gap in the needles, she was surprised to she Lee vault gracefully off the back of a running horse and bounce lightly to his feet.

She darted towards him, "Lee! Oh, Lee I'm so glad to see you! I found the nerve gas and I'm sure they're coming to get me."

"Amanda, what are you doing here?"

"Trying to get away with the nerve gas. Here." She reached into the front of her shirt, and pulled out the heavy canister and handed it to him. "Be careful with that. It's deadly."

The agent rolled his eyes, "I know that. This changes things. We need to hide to let her get past and then we'll find better cover." He pressed her back behind the fragrant greenery and listened to the hoof beats draw even with them and race past.

"Come on." He dashed into the woods away from the trail. He reached back for her hand, and was surprised that she was not within reach. He turned to look and noticed her limping gamely toward him. "What's wrong? No, don't answer that. Grab onto my belt. This will be the fastest three-legged race you've ever run."

Wrapping her right arm around his waist, Amanda gripped his belt tightly. Lee and Amanda raced away from the trail and into a denser area of evergreen coverage. With Lee's long legs and strong thighs doing most of the work, Amanda felt like she was flying. She ran with her left leg as best as she could, and used her right leg mostly for balance. The land was fairly level with good visibility since many of the plants had gone dormant for the winter. He guided them skillfully to a different part of the trail that crossed over a stream. There was a wooden bridge spanning the stream for about four feet and he stopped them on the far side. He hopped down and then reached up to help her down into the stream bed. The stream was rushing through the lowest channel, but the edges were dry and Lee turned and ducked under the bridge. The reinforcement for the bridge provided sturdy beams where they could catch their breath and she could rest her knee. Litter suggested that local teens used the underside of the bridge as an informal clubhouse, away from adult eyes.

"Now, we wait for a bit. We have the nerve gas, and that was the primary danger. All we have to do is get you back to your car without being stopped and you'll be out of this mess."

"What were you doing in the woods, anyway? It sounded like a horse race."

"Something like that. Horses are creatures of habit and Blaze likes a particular clearing near the Pedroza estate which is a couple of miles away by trail, but not nearly as far straight across country. I've been able to use that to my advantage to scout the area and keep an eye on the house. When I jumped off him, I expected him to wind through the woods following the trail until he gets to the clearing. Since I know where he's going, I'll just meet him there. That means Adele will also go to the clearing, following Blaze and expecting a surprise from me when she gets there. She'll be surprised that I don't show up."

"So, you planned that? But what did you plan to do without the horse?"

"I needed to get a look at the duct system of the country club and I knew the building would be open today with folks crawling all over it. If they wanted to release the gas through the duct work, today was my chance to check it out."

"Aah" she nodded.

"You stealing the nerve gas will be reported to Pedroza right away, and his folks will start combing the woods for you. Adele will put two and two together and realize that I was playing her, and she will be looking for me with a vengeance."

"So, why are we sitting here? Isn't this delay risky for us?"

"I'm waiting for the sound of pursuit to pass this bridge and then we'll cross the stream and head down the hill to the clubhouse parking lot. We're much closer to the parking lot here, and on the far side of the clubhouse. It's not much farther," he assured her.

He paused then smiled, "I sure enjoyed that horse. His fondness for that clearing was handy more than once. The day I met you in the study, was the first time I took advantage of his habit, and it worked like a charm. I had the hardest time getting away from Adele to do any surveillance in the house. That morning, I had saddled her horse,and tied it to Blaze. Then I rode Blaze to the clearing and left him there while I jogged back to the stables and drove my car to Pedroza's. Later, I 'accidentally' knocked Adele into the pool and slipped into the study when she went to get changed. Of course, the servants panicked when they couldn't find me, but when I appeared with both horses, everyone assumed I had walked all the way to the stables for them. A couple of other times, I stashed a bottle of wine or a basket of grapes in the clearing as a surprise for Adele. I would challenge her to a race when I was already far ahead of her, then jump off the horse and scout the land, showing up in the clearing just before she arrived. A good agent has to think on his feet, but it's always good to do your homework and know what's at hand. That's how I found this place. And that's how I know Adele will expect to find me at the clearing."

A scuffle of footsteps hurrying up the path caught their attention and they cocked their heads, listening. A low voice growled, "She was limping this morning, so she can't have gone far, and she'll likely stay on the trails. But look everywhere – those damn evergreens could hide anything. And keep quiet. We don't want to alert her that we're coming." Booted feet stomped across the bridge and then there was silence.

Lee rose from the beam, and ducked under the edge of the bridge to take a quick look. He ducked again and held out his hand. "All clear. Let's get you home."

He straddled the stream and lifted Amanda lightly over the water. The she turned to face him, and put both hands on his shoulders to steady herself while he lifted her to a sitting position on the bridge. She carefully got to her feet as he leaped up onto the bridge, and they started down the slope. It quickly became apparent that Amanda's knee had gotten even worse during their brief rest, and Lee again drew close to provide support.

"I guess you'll miss Adele," Amanda said with a sideways glance as she gripped his waist.

"Hardly. I'll miss the horse more than her. She was part of the job, Amanda. You have to keep your feelings separate. You know that." His scornful tone was directed towards the thought of missing Adele, but the slight squeeze at her waist hinted to Amanda that maybe she was more than just part of the job. She was never quite sure what to think of those tiny hints, the small gestures.

As they emerged from the woods into the lawn beside the parking lot, Eduardo stepped menacingly into their path waving a knife. "I'd appreciate the return of what you stole from us." He was poised for action and pressed the switch to cause the knife blade to spring open.

Lee thrust the canister into Amanda's arms and shouted, "Run, Amanda" then whirled around, kicking low to sweep Eduardo's legs out from under him. The man fell on his side, and the knife flew from his grasp to stab the earth down the slope. While Lee moved in for another kick, Eduardo grabbed his ankle and pushed up, knocking Lee off balance and down. Eduardo scrambled up and dove on top of Lee pinning him to the ground. Amanda, edged around the outside of the fight, to get the knife. Lee grabbed Eduardo's shirt and rolled, causing them to switch places. He punched Eduardo's jaw, but Eduardo grabbed Lee's shirt and pulled them together with a sharp head-butt. Unfortunately for Eduardo, it hurt him more than it hurt Lee, and Lee took the opportunity to raise up and drive his knee into Eduardo's ribs. Groaning from the blow, Eduardo grabbed Lee in a scissor hold with his legs and rolled again. With arms and legs flying, the two men crashed into Amanda, sending her and the nerve gas to the ground. With a bum knee and the need to maintain her grip on the canister, she had no way to brace herself and her face skidded against pine cones and bits of gravel. Lee seized Eduardo's head firmly and pounded it against the ground until he was subdued. Then he got up heavily and picked up the knife with one hand and assisted Amanda with the other. Keeping one eye on his adversary, he glanced sideways and asked, "You alright?"

Breathing shakily, she answered, "Yeah. It will all heal in a day or two."

Now that the fight was over, Francine and James Edgecomb (dressed in blazers identifying them as news staff) raced up to take Eduardo into custody and secure the nerve gas as evidence.

"Lee, I thought you were going to make sure that Amanda didn't get involved in this today. What were you thinking?" Francine scolded.

"Ah, Francine, you're just jealous that you missed out on all the fun," Lee scoffed, shoving Eduardo in her direction.

"Well," sniffed the blonde, "only a little."

 **4247 Maplewood Drive**

 **Saturday evening**

Throughout the trying day, Amanda had longed to go home and rest her knee in a long soak. But as she approached the house, the longing was mixed with dread as she braced herself to answer her mother's barrage of questions. Following Eduardo's arrest, Amanda had met Lee at the Agency to debrief the incident and file her report. It was now past dinner time and the boys should be getting ready for bed.

The moment Amanda pushed the door open, the questions started, "Amanda, is that you?" The voice came from upstairs.

"Yes, mother." She stepped across the threshold into the warmth of the kitchen and removed her jacket.

"I was so worried. Where have you been?" Amanda could hear Dotty's feet hurrying down the stairs.

"It's a long story, mother."

"When Margarite called, she was concerned that you didn't show up to walk the dogs this evening. Did you go to the emergency room? How badly were you injured? She felt just terrible that your injuries kept you from the afternoon walk." Dotty grabbed both of Amanda's arms as she assessed the damage.

"No, mother I didn't go to the emergency room. It's not as bad as it looks. I'll be fine in a day or two."

"Amanda, your face is all scuffed up and I bet that eye will be black by morning. And your knee! I can see you limping, missy. Sit right down there, and I'll get an ice pack. Sit!" Her mother's flurry of activity and concern washed over Amanda like a waterfall. It was easier to go with the flow than to cross the current, and Amanda was too bruised and tired to resist.

"Yes, mother. I'm sitting."

"Here, prop it on this chair. Have you had dinner? I can heat up some of the casserole in no time, and I saved you some salad."

"Dinner would be great, mother. Thank you." Amanda let her head roll back and from side to side, easing the tension of the day.

"Oh, you poor baby. Who knew that dog walking could get so rough? You need a safer profession, Amanda. Something with more stability, maybe a chance to meet more people. You'll never meet a nice man if you're just walking dogs. Now that Dean's lost interest, you need to think of your future." Dotty's bright red nails flashed as she gestured.

"You're right, mother. I need a safer profession." Amanda said, wearily, but with a glimmer of hope.

"You type 90 words a minute and you could meet a lot of nice men as a secretary." She clasped her hands together under her chin, gleefully imagining the possibilities.

"I'll look into it, Mother. In fact, I saw an ad today for a film company. They do documentaries. Maybe I'll apply there on Monday."

 **THE END**

Author's notes:

Full credit to SMKLegacy who originally had the idea of nerve gas in balloons. You can read her wonderful story here: s/229184/8/Operation-Esther.

Shout-out to the actor James Edgecomb who silently appeared in several SMK scenes but never in the credits, and to Abby Treloggen who was music editor for 84 episodes.

The female Democratic Vice Presidential candidate in 1984 did actually visit Central America advocating for compromise between the established repressive governments and legitimately furious rebel forces. I have no idea whether her life was threatened following those talks. My derogatory comments about her were strictly the thoughts of my characters and not an indication of my own opinion of her. And I'm pretty sure that "bursting their bubble" has never been a campaign activity for either political party.

 **Farewell:** I have been writing fanfic for nearly 3 years and found it to be a delightful avenue of escape. Life circumstances have changed and I will be ending my "play time" in the SMK fandom. Like the end of summer camp, I'll leave with wonderful memories, but it's time to get back to more serious pursuits. I hope you enjoy reading my stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.


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